


you can (not) unmake me

by lipwigvonmoist



Category: The Bifrost Incident - The Mechanisms (Album)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Gaslighting, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipwigvonmoist/pseuds/lipwigvonmoist
Summary: When Odin, the only person she sees these days, stares at her wistfully and tells her how close they used to be, Loki doesn‘t remember enough to be completely sure. She doesn‘t remember enough to say that the woman is lying, either.
Relationships: Loki/Odin (The Bifrost Incident)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	you can (not) unmake me

There are many things Loki cannot remember. She hardly knows what the world outside is like; she spends all her days indoors, working, or resting, or trying to rest. She has trouble remembering faces; they all blend into a blur, leaving her unable to think if she tries too hard to make out the details, hear their voices. Murky visions of death haunt her, plague her dreams and her consciousness; she  cannot tell  memories and nightmares  apart .

When Odin, the only person she sees these days, stares at her wistfully and tells her  how close they used to be , she doesn‘t remember enough to be completely sure. She doesn‘t remember enough to say that the woman is lying, either. Loki must have had someone dear to her; could it be..?

She watches Odin at work, jacket discarded in the suffocating heat of the dimly-lit room, hunched over a desk, furiously noting some calculations down. Yes, she supposes, she could have fallen in love with the strange woman; so passionate about her project, so bright and intense. When she rambles on and on about the train, this monster of a machine that will one day pierce the sky, Loki feels calm. Her silvery voice, her animated movements soothe all the noises in her head, take her headaches away. She can even feel her mouth curling into a smile; such a rare occurrence these days. Odin smiles back, and the smile alone pins her down. Loki doesn‘t remember, but this must be love. 

When Odin finally kisses her, Loki doesn’t remember ever experiencing anything like it.  She stops breathing for a moment,  as a hand curled in her hair pulls her closer. Her own hands quickly wrap around the unfamiliar curves. Odin‘s intoxicating presence is so strong -  surely it would all come back now ,  surely she would recognise her scent, and her touch, and her taste?  But no ; there are so many things missing from poor Loki‘s memory…

She doesn’t remember hands roaming around her body quite like that - rough, possessive, leaving bruises in places they linger for too long. Odin must have missed her badly - she almost rips the clothes off her, presses hasty, feverish kisses to her shoulders, collarbones, squeezing her breasts to an almost painful degree.  It’s the same intensity she displays at her work - and Loki is just as mesmerized by her movements, fascinated to find herself at the centre of her attention. She is only a little surprised when Odin’s teeth meet her neck. 

Loki doesn‘t remember being marked like this. Her pale skin bruises easily, but it is not entirely unpleasant. There is happiness in belonging somewhere, being so intimately close to someone; now she has evidence, something she would not forget. Odin admires her work with a satisfied hum -  almost as if she’s appraising the results of her new, exciting experiment.  She‘s very pretty, Loki thinks as she leans closer, sighs softly into the hand gently caressing her face. She could get used to this - did get used to this once, apparently.

She doesn‘t remember that same hand closing around her throat. She gasps as Odin smiles wider, even prettier, her eye  focused on every little movement, every little sound Loki makes.  Her other hand strokes her inner thigh in slow, lazy motions, something Loki can‘t ignore even as she struggles for air.  Was it always like this? Was she always like this?  The edges of her visions start to blur. Maybe she should try to say something, to resist  \- but Odin’s hand finds its way between her legs, and she doesn’t want her to stop all that much.

She doesn’t remember her own voice betraying her like that - needy and weak, pitiful moans escaping her  newly freed throat as Odin’s slick fingers push deeper.  She begs, words and body trembling, though for what, she is unsure - but it only makes the other woman more pleased, makes her move faster, makes her dig her nails deeper into Loki‘s skin. At least it‘s different - Loki simply feels too much to dwell on her past, to think of all the death and blood just outside of her consciousness as she lets out another whimper.  Did Odin plan this? Was she deliberately trying to get her out of it, fill her mind with new experiences, drawing one cry out after another? 

That must be why Odin’s fingers withdraw, delivering a slap instead - hard and sudden and painful. The stinging sensation is subdued with her mouth, wet and warm. She is relentless - uncaring for the mess, uncaring for Loki’s hands desperately tangling in her hair, uncaring for the low growls she appears to make. Loki does not remember feeling so good and so bad at the same time, wrong and ecstatic and treasured and owned. Loki does not remember crying. 

Loki doesn‘t recall Odin ever stroking her face, gently wiping away her tears, so cool against her flushed skin.  She is still beautiful, all hot and dishevelled, and, hazy and distracted, Loki barely registers the words coming out of her mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

It takes her a moment to think, and by the time she starts voicing her concerns, a finger is pressed against her lips. 

“Shhh,” - Odin’s expression appears to be one of compassion, though Loki is suddenly overcome with a nasty shiver. “Come now. You’ve always asked me to act like this - didn’t you like it?” Her fingers continue to brush against Loki’s face, comb through her hair, and she doesn’t have the strength to look away as the other woman whispers on and on - how good it had always felt, how enthusiastic Loki always used to be, how much she was looking forward to experimenting more.  Who is to say she is lying? Who is to say she is telling the truth?  Her voice is soothing, still, gentle waves of sound lulling her to sleep.

Loki closes her eyes and, for the first time, hopes that her memories don’t come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading <3 A lot of firsts for me, here - this the first fic I actually finished and posted somewhere, AND my first NSFW fic. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!  
> You can also find me on Tumblr (https://moistureman.tumblr.com/) and Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/mmoisturemann/) doing my main thing - fanarts :')


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